


Only Human

by shootingforstars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Angst, Bad Parent John Winchester, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shootingforstars/pseuds/shootingforstars
Summary: "Saving people, hunting things, the family business."If there was one thing Olivia had learned, it was that, sometimes, the worst monsters were just people.Even worse, sometimes they were family.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Only Human

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I have been writing since high school. As much as I wanted to post this work years ago, Supernatural's ever changing plot line kept me wary of posting anything that might end up more convoluted than the canon already was. Now, years later, with the show ending, I have decided to share my story with you all. I know that the time for fanfiction has passed, especially in this fandom, but this show has been too much of an inspiration to me to not ever post my version of it. Creating this story, this long, complicated story, in my brain led me down the path of my career in writing. I will be majoring in the field very soon. This character, Olivia, became my comfort and refuge when life became rough, and she became the obsession of my friends who I shared my preliminary writing with. I hope you enjoy her as much as we have.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

CW: I am a firm believer that John is a piece of shit father. I understand that many fans, and the show itself, has allowed John a sort of redemption arc, but I will not provide such a thing in this story. Maybe I'm biased as a person who grew up in an abusive household and sees many of the traits of my abusers in John, but I will not have any John apologist talk in this story. For this reason, there will be mentions of corporal punishment, neglect, abuse, and just John being a piece of shit (Don’t get scared by the Rape/Noncon warning at the begining though, it is not for him; as shitty as John is I will not turn him into a rapist). If any of these subjects are triggering for you, or if you are uncomfortable with a writer depicting John in this way, you may want to take caution while reading this chapter. 

“If only. Those must be the two saddest words in the world.” Olivia was sure she had read that in some book or something. 

Most people’s “if only” were rather boring. “If only I hadn’t worked so much,” “If only I hadn’t gone on that vacation with the boys,” “If only I hadn’t accepted that promotion.” Olivia had no time for “if only.” She’d learned that life was whatever it was, and that it was stupid to try and pretend it was anything different, or to regret the decisions you’d made long after you’d made them. “What could be’s” were pointless, a waste of time, for children, and Olivia was too much of an adult to think about them. 

It wasn’t like Olivia was completely happy with what life had thrown at her. There were several things she wished didn’t happen in her life. She wished her mother hadn’t died when she was a child, or that she hadn't gone out and had that one night stand with that guy at that party, or that her father hadn't gotten custody of her and her brothers. Maybe, if all of these things hadn’t have happened, she wouldn’t be where she is now. But they had happened, and there was nothing she could do to change them or their effects. In truth, Olivia had never thought about her life long enough to have any opinion over it. It was what it was, and there was no way to stop it from being that way. The only thing that had ever mattered to Olivia was the future, and how she could get to where she wanted to be. 

But now, as she stared at the empty seat in front of her, her eyes darting from the obnoxiously red leather to the almost barren parking lot, Olivia had a lot of regrets. She regretted picking up the phone to listen to that stupid ass voicemail, she regretted calling back despite the lump in her throat that screamed she should just change her number again so they wouldn’t be able to find it, she regretted brushing her husband aside when he tried to convince her to stay home and away from that diner, she regretted showing up twenty minutes early just in case Sammy had grown out of his perpetual procrastination. Most of all, she regretted leaving in the first place. 

In retrospect, she didn’t have a choice in leaving. John had been adamant that he did not want her in the family, not after she decided to quit their lifestyle for something more stable than what their nightly stays in motel rooms could provide. Bobby, too, had left her with no choice when he broke her phone in half and threatened to have her committed when she brought up going back. “You’re pregnant,” he’d said, “and you can’t bring that baby into the type of world your daddy wants you to live in.” She didn’t really have a choice in any of it, she never did, but that didn’t make her regret leaving any less. 

This, meeting her brothers at some diner she’d only ever seen during her patrols as a beat cop, was something she did have control over. She could have refused, maybe she should have, but some part of her felt like she owed them an explanation after ten years apart. Or, maybe, she felt like she was owed an explanation. Olivia wasn’t sure which one it was anymore, but she knew she needed to see them, no matter the consequences. There was no time to back out, to question her decisions that had led her to here, to hope that they would just forget their agreement or chicken out and stand her up just like the last time she reached out, there was only time to breathe and try to calm her breaths as the reality began to set in. 

It was sobering and jarring to see an all too familiar vehicle turn into the lot. The impala looked the same as it always had, save for a few dents and scratches that must have been added in the years since she’d seen it. It was shiny, freshly washed, likely by hand knowing how much her father hated modern conveniences and loved that car. Panic shot through Olivia as the thought of John came to her mind. If the car was here, so was he. John would never let anyone drive Baby unless he was dead, and even then she was sure his ghost would appear to kill any of them that tried to take her out for a spin. Seeing her brothers was one thing, something that she was barely prepared for, but seeing John? Olivia felt the urge to hide under the table at the very thought of her father walking into the diner. 

But she didn’t hide, she instead stared down the impala with wide eyes and a pale face as it whipped into the spot next to hers, waiting with bated breath as the engine stopped humming and the doors began to open, revealing her brothers, with Dean in the driver’s seat. 

She released her breath with a loud gasp as Dean appeared from the drivers side instead of John. There was no way John had given the car to him, not if he was alive anyway, and there was certainly no way John would let Dean of all people behind the wheel of his most precious earthly possession. A part of her was jealous. How many times had she begged John to let her drive, begged him to just let her sit in his seat so she could pretend she was him, only for John to scream at her for even suggesting such a thing? She’d lost count. Olivia thought back to the time she stole the car to drive Sam to the emergency room after Sam had gotten into John’s ammo bag while their father and Dean were away, and how John bent her over his knee and whipped her in Sammy’s recovery room for “taking Baby without permission.” A lump of bitter envy rose in her throat as she watched Dean round the impala and began to walk towards the door. 

Olivia lowered her eyes as they entered, flinching as the door chimed to notify the staff of their appearance, and clutched the cup of now room temperature coffee in her hands to still their shaking. She’d chosen the furthest booth from the door for them to have privacy, a good idea at the time, but found herself regretting that decision as their heavy footfalls echoed through the quiet diner like a fucked up metronome growing louder with each click. 

And then they stopped, just beside her. There was a moment of silence where none of them dared to speak, where Olivia did not dare to look at them for the fear that she was hallucinating or that a pair of black eyes would look back. After a pregnant pause, one of them moved, and slid into the seat across from her, the other following. It was only then that she took her eyes away from the brown drink between her hands and moved them to rest on the boys across from her. 

Not boys, she realized, men. 

Ten years had changed much for them. They were all much older now, no longer the teenagers they had been when they’d seen each other last. They were harder now, pudgy faces and curved bodies had transformed into something smoother, sharper. Sam’s hair had grown out, his bangs flopped over his forehead like one of those popstars Junior had gotten into lately, while Dean’s was cut short in the military style John had always liked. They still dressed the same, plaid shirts and jeans from goodwill that they didn’t replace until they absolutely needed to. 

Olivia hadn’t even realized she’d started crying until something wet dripped onto her wrist. She leaned back, smiled softly, and wiped her face before she crossed her arms over her chest, taking in her brothers as if it were the last time she would ever see them. None of them had broken the silence yet, so Olivia decided to be the first. Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, cracking with unshed tears and muffled by her tongue weighing down her mouth. “Hey boys.”


End file.
